Noise Capital of the World

Tokyo seems to be either very quiet or incredibly noisy. Our neighborhood is very quiet. We’re lucky enough to be located across the street from a park, so we sometimes hear children playing and young baseball teams chanting musically as they run laps around the perimeter. We also “enjoy” the background hum of some type of cicada that sounds like electric current gone wild. The occasional truck rumbles past, which makes the house shake but is not terribly noisy.

On the other hand Shibuya, the big commercial center in our ward (Tokyo is divided into 23 wards), is noisy beyond anything I’ve ever encountered anywhere. In Shibuya, the air itself is loud – I swear.

One day in early August, Mark and I stood in the center of Shibuya laden with bags of groceries and various items for our new household. As we stood sweating and waiting for the boys to catch up, we were a captive audience for the cacophony of voices and music coming simultaneously and discordantly from every direction. The combination of extreme humidity and uber stimulation made my brain feel like it was melting.

The main intersection in Shibuya is the biggest in the world. It’s about the size of Times Square times six, with five roads fanning out from the center like starlight. Giant video screens on the sides of surrounding buildings blast out programming to everyone in the vicinity (which is a multitude if I ever saw one). More immediately, voices from the shops and restaurants that line the street we’re on exhort us to buy what they’re selling – at least that’s what we assume.

We’re directly in front of a multi-story electronics store, from which a plethora of sounds is emanating. A female voice being broadcast over speakers keeps up a continuous stream of words in a rather demanding tone. Simultaneously, several males standing in front of the same store try to entice passersby, but more timidly – perhaps because they can actually be seen. In addition, two different sets of music are being piped outdoors at incredible decibels. Their strategy is working, although perhaps not in the way they intended, because I’m tempted to enter the store if only to escape all the noise on the sidewalk.

When in Shibuya, we try to “go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence” (Max Ehrman), but we’re so distracted by all the noise and haste that we can’t remember much of anything. That may be just as well – going placidly on a crowded Shibuya sidewalk is one sure way to get absolutely nowhere.